


Whiskers on Kittens

by anthologia



Series: Kitten AU [1]
Category: Batman (Comics), DCU (Comics), Nightwing (Comics), Red Robin (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Always a Different Sex, Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, F/M, First Kiss, Fluff, Insecurity, Kidnapping, Kittens, Light Bondage, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Porn with Feelings, Rescue, Self-Esteem Issues, Semi-Public Sex, Shirt Porn, Smut, Teasing, Tim Drake is Catlad, Vaginal Fingering, magic healing cock doesn't work but it's sure fun trying
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-17
Updated: 2016-01-03
Packaged: 2018-04-09 21:17:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 5,458
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4364516
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anthologia/pseuds/anthologia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Short fics set in a reality where Timothea Drake became Catwoman's protege instead of Batman's, and she and Nightwing have a Thing.</p><p>Newest: Kitten kind of has a thing for Nightwing's fingerstripes. [Explicit]</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Night is Still Young

**Author's Note:**

> Finally decided this verse was enough to justify getting its own short story collection fic. I'll be moving over the short fics from "Scraps and Scribbles" for ease of location and post new ficlets to this one going forward.
> 
> Anything Explicit will be marked as such in the chapter title.

In the pantheon of Gotham’s criminals, Kitten is barely a blip. Not because she’s unskilled – on the contrary, Kitten is v _ery_ good at what she does – but because, compared to the kind of psychotics her city produces, one little cat burglar who hardly even causes injuries let alone fatalities barely amounts to anything.

And yet, she somehow seems to take up a disproportionate amount of the Bats’ and the Birds’ time. Or, to be more precise, _Nightwing_ ’s time.

She practically _purrs_ when she hears the familiar sound of a body landing on the rooftop behind her. “You know, I’m going to start thinking you’re not really in this for the money if you keep returning what you stole,” he says.

Kitten turns around, eyes widened in seeming innocence. “Why _Nightwing_ , that piece belongs to the public. I was just… borrowing it for a little while. I brought it back in better condition than when I found it, Scouts’ Honor.”

It’s true, actually. Tim might have paid out of pocket for a little restoration before she snuck it back into its place. She might have also made a sizable anonymous donation to the museum’s funding when she noticed the kind of shitty money they had to work with. No wonder their pieces weren’t receiving the care they deserved. _Honestly_ , didn’t anyone understand the true value of art these days? It’s part of their legacy as a _species_.

Nightwing rests his hands on her hips. “Are you sure you don’t want to just give up on this life of crime and join the side of justice officially? I could make it worth your while.” Her skin tingles where he presses a kiss to her neck.

She pretends to think about it. “A bowl of cream every day?”

Dick huffs out a laugh and curves his head down to steal a kiss from her. It hardly takes any effort for him to coax her lips apart so he can lick his way into her mouth, and she’s honestly sorry when it ends. “As much as you want.”

She ducks out of his hold and comes to a stop just out of his immediate reach, because that’s the way the game is played. Escape, chase, catch, the last one only when she feels like it. “What kind of cat would I be if I let myself be domesticated?”

She could see his smirk under the mask. “A happy one?”

Tim lets her laughter echoing behind her as she leaps away serve as her reply.


	2. Whiskers on Kittens

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dick is good with kittens. It's a thing.

With the amount of time she spends running into Nightwing, it’s really no surprise that he’s been witness to a few of her less proud moments. Moments like botched heists, stupid mistakes, and unscheduled acts of humanitarianism for a few stray cats.

She’s tempted to pretend he’s not there at all when he touches down, because she’s sitting on the ground with three kittens in her lap, and there is absolutely _no_ way this can ever be spun in a way that doesn’t ruin her reputation as a criminal. Not even _haha, I stole these kittens from their rightful owner!_

Basically: she’s screwed. Nightwing is just _grinning_ down at her and she has no defenses. “You’re adorable,” he says.

The best she can do is attempt to maintain her dignity in the face of great adversity. One of the kittens is climbing her arm. “I hate you, go away,” she says, but _dignified_.

Instead of being put off by her clever retort, he sits down next to her, tugging off his gloves so he can pet the cats. “Sorry, did I interrupt your badass mysterious cat burglar time?” One of the kittens climbs into his lap, and she hisses _traitor_ at it.

If the hero’s arrived, they don’t need her anymore. Tim detaches the remaining two animals from where they’re clinging to her suit and stands. “Well, it looks like you’ve got the situation well in hand. Just take them to a shelter or something.”

Nightwing hooks an ankle around her leg to get her off-balance. “Nope. I found stray kittens, I’m keeping them. _All_ of them,” he adds while pointedly grabbing hold of her hand and tugging her into his lap, kittens scattering around them to get out of the way.

“Good luck taking care of all of them,” she says. Nightwing just smirks at her and rests his hand on the back of her neck, his thumb rubbing an area where she tends to get knots. And all right, it does feel really good and she might coincidentally lose the urge to fight with him at right around the same time. She _swears_ she wasn’t this tactile before she started training under Catwoman.

“I’ve learned some tricks,” he says, annoyingly smug.

One of the kittens bites his finger. “Good boy,” she tells it lazily, too comfortable to move.


	3. Catch & Release

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kitten has Nightwing's back. That's good, cause he has hers right back.

She should have said no on day one. Kept their relationship strictly professional and adversarial like the usual vigilante/criminal dynamic. Sure, Selina never managed it, but Tim’s never felt the need to get caught up in a mess just because her mentor did. But she just _had_ to stupidly give in to that stupid crush she had as a stupid kid on Dick Grayson, and now she’s doing stupid things like jumping into his fights to even the odds out a little.

A collapsible bo staff doesn’t fit the costume as thematically well as Selina’s cat o’ nine tails, but it’s easier to tuck away and she’s better with it. Kitten extends it and makes quick work of the few jerks who brought guns to a hand-to-hand fight, knocking their weapons out of the way and stunning them badly enough that she’s sure they won’t be getting up any time soon. Nightwing hasn’t even noticed her yet, or at least hasn’t made a sign that he has. He can easily handle whoever’s left, so she decides to forgo reaping the rewards of virtue in favor of heading back to the apartment for a catnap before tackling anything else.

Except that, just as she’s about to make a jump from this rooftop to the next, some asshole throws a knife at her. She realizes, immediately, that twisting to avoid getting hit by it is a mistake because it throws off her balance. Instead of landing solidly on the roof, she goes into free-fall. Her grapple was damaged earlier tonight, which leaves her with the main option of trying to hit something on the way down so the landing won’t hurt her as bad. Tim aims herself at a balcony and is doing her best to brace for impact when a blur of blue and black slams into her at an angle and brings them to a much less painful landing on a lower roof.

Nightwing doesn’t let go of her immediately, which is just as well since she’s not sure she has her balance just yet. She still does her best to extract herself from his hold as soon as she can, just on the principle of the thing, but he’s determined to keep some body part attached to her. The best she can manage is to get him to switch from a full-body hug to an arm over her shoulders.

“If you make a joke about cats landing on their feet, I’m going to scratch you,” she warns him.

He grins down at her. “Thanks for the warning. So was it my imagination, or were there a few less people to fight than I counted?”

“Must have miscounted,” she says blandly, although she’s not sure why. Virtue may be its own reward, but _rewards_ are pretty good rewards, too, and Nightwing is _very_ good about rewarding positive behavior. Maybe it’s just that having him free of bullet holes is enough for tonight.

Kitten doesn’t wear much in the way of heels with her working uniform because she never got the hang of the kind of stunts Selina can manage in them, so she has to go up on tiptoes a little to kiss him properly. He deepens it immediately, kissing her like he’s afraid she’s going to disappear, and she’s _so_ tempted to just keep it up and see where the night leads. They both have some leftover adrenaline to burn after the fight and her near-fall, and that’s always a lot of fun.

But. She has things to do, people to see. Kitten pulls away reluctantly and flashes him a smile. “Thanks for the catch, but I’m a busy girl. We’ll finish this later.”

Before she can quite extract herself, he grabs hold of her wrist and brings her closer to kiss her again. He’s the one to pull away first this time, which is good, because she’s not so sure she’d have the willpower to. “I’ll hold you to that.”


	4. Feline Sartorial Thievery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "You're wearing my shirt."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Takes place after "No Matter How Sweet, No Matter How Brave". Tim is an unrepentant shirt thief. THE END.

The shirt’s not quite huge enough to really be considered a dress on her, but the bottom hem pools down at her thighs low enough to give a vague sense of modesty. Not that she’s really concerned with modesty, with the way she has her leg slung carelessly over the back of the couch she’s lying on with her head pillowed up at one of the ends. It’s _comfortable_ , go judge someone else.

She doesn’t bother to look up when she hears Dick fumbling with the locks to his apartment door. it’s not like she broke in, because it’s not really breaking in when she has an implied invitation to his place, is it? He even offered to give her a key once. Not that she needed it, because when did she ever need a key to get into places? _Please_. Still, it was a nice thought, even if it was mostly out of concern for the continued functioning of his security system.

It takes Dick about five seconds to spot her, drop everything he was carrying and stalk over to her with an almost predatory gleam in his eye.  “You’re wearing my shirt.”

Tim licks her finger before turning the page in her book. The gesture isn’t necessary in the slightest, but she’s watching him out of the corner of her eye and it’s _fun_. “Oh, please. You have five of these shirts, and all of them are from the same stupid Bludhaven police events.”

“You misunderstood,” he says before climbing on the couch with her and settling between her conveniently already spread legs. Her book is summarily plucked out of her hands. “You’re _wearing my shirt_.”

 _Oh_. Well. She hadn’t actually planned on this specifically, but Tim’s not one to turn down a good thing when it’s inching a hand up her leg. “Is that a problem?”

“I don’t know.” He ducks his head to mouth at one of her nipples through the cloth of the shirt. By the time he lets go, there’s a distinctly damp patch on it and a smirk on his face that promises all sorts of fun things are about to happen. “I may need some time to think about it.”


	5. Every Now and Then the Stars Align [Explicit]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You know, if more criminals were nice enough to show up and handcuff themselves, then my job would be way easier.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Takes place after "No Matter How Sweet, No Matter How Brave". Title from a Lana Del Rey song.

Handcuffed to the bed. She can’t quite decide if it’s classic or just cliché, honestly, but it doesn’t really matter. Dick trailing his fingers up her hip gently with a pleased grin on his face – _that’s_ what matters. 

“You know, if more criminals were nice enough to show up and handcuff _themselves_ , then my job would be way easier.”

“I’m reformed,” she tells him serenely. He chuckles, low and amused.

“No, you’re not,” he says, before licking a stripe up over her left breast. “But I appreciate you turning yourself in to my custody. Maybe even enough to give you a reward.” He sits up and starts unbuttoning his shirt. “In the interests of encouraging good behavior.”

“Rehabilitation?” she asks, slightly distracted by the way his shirt falls open, revealing extremely well-toned muscles and skin peppered over with marks from his years of crimefighting. 

“Exactly.” He’s not particularly careful with his uniform shirt once it’s removed, which makes some very slightly still-anal-retentive part of her mind wince. He distracts her immediately by ducking down for a brief kiss. “Do you want a safe word?”

“Mordor,” she says without thinking, and then winces internally again. 

Dick’s grin just widens, amused. “Cause you wouldn’t want to go there.”

Tim just gives him an embarrassed little shrug as best she can with her hands stretched out over her head. 

He exaggeratedly mouths the word _adorable_ at her and then kisses her on the nose when she glares at him. 

“I’ve changed my mind, I’m escaping police custody – “ she says with a grumpy little tug on the handcuffs. He laughs and straddles her, his weight over her hips easily holding them in place. 

“Sorry, you made your choice. No take-backs,” he sing-songs, and Tim regrets every choice she’s ever made that led to this moment – for all of three seconds, before he leans down and scrapes his teeth over her throat while rolling her nipple between his fingers. She lets out an embarrassing little squeak, and he mouths ‘adorable’ at her one more time, god _damn_ it, before absently twirling his tie around the fingers of his free hand with an obvious glance at her mouth. “Now. Should I point out that you have the right to remain silent, or…?”


	6. In Which a Kitten Rescues a Bird

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Takes place before "No Matter How Sweet". There may be a first kiss in this. :3

It’s not all that often that Kitten gets to experience the distinct pleasure of rescuing one of Gotham’s finest vigilantes. Really, most of her interactions with them – all right, the ones with Nightwing, if she’s being specific – tend to consist of a delicate balance of teasing, flirting, and thwarting, often in that order. Happening upon a certain Bird all nicely tied up for her is complete accident, but it’s so _convenient_.

The first thing she does is knock out the idiots that were left behind to guard him. Once she’s sure she’s cleared the area, she perches herself on a chair near to where Nightwing’s tied up to wait for him to wake up. He’s groggy and slow to begin with, and so confused when he spots her. It’s adorable, honestly, watching him try to figure out what she's doing here. “Kitten…?”

“Took you long enough to wake up.” Well. Only a couple minutes, really, but who’s counting?

“What did you…?” She can’t actually track his eye movement with the mask in the way, but she can guess when he starts taking in his surroundings and notices the unconscious, tied-up guards that are arranged in a neat pile across the room. She borrowed some of their own materials to restrain them; it’s like they _wanted_ her to come along and ruin their plans.

If he’s a little slow on the uptake right now, Kitten’s generously going to attribute that to leftover sedatives in his system. “What do you think?” She spreads her arms expansively. “I’ve captured you. It’s part of my new evil plan to take over the world. I’m going to leverage you to get to Batman, and we’ll see how it goes from there.”

He cracks a grin. It shouldn’t be possible to look that good when you’re just recovering from knock-out gas (and Tim knows, she’s had _experience_ ), but that’s Nightwing for you. “Is that why you took out your own henchmen?”

A dismissive wave of her hand. “Good help is so hard to find.” She stands up and comes closer, figuring she’s probably left him hanging long enough – literally, his captors went for the classic handcuffed to a metal ring attached to the ceiling look, and it’s pointedly set a little too high for Nightwing to stand comfortably. She _didn’t_ find a key for the cuffs, which is irritating, but she will _buy_ a hat just so she can eat it if she can’t pick the lock in under thirty seconds.

The way he’s grinning at her may add a little time to that estimate, though. It’s _distracting_ , mostly because he’s so obviously trying not to laugh at the way she has to stand up on her toes to see the cuffs properly. (Just because he’s stupid and tall doesn’t mean everyone else has to be, _ugh_.) “If you say a single word, I am leaving you here,” she warns him, and he gives her an exaggerated little nod.

When the cuffs open, he takes a second to shake out his hands before resting one on her waist and tugging her that tiny bit closer. “So you’re in the business of rescuing people now?”

She rolls her eyes. “Not even slightly.”

“Mm-hmm.” Something tells her he doesn’t believe a single word of her answer, but that’s fine. He can believe what he wants. “I’m just a special case, then?”

“I happened to be nearby.”

“Uh-huh,” he says, and all right, _now_ it’s starting to get irritating, but he has _excellent_ timing because he picks just then to dip his head down and kiss her.

Which is. Not actually what she was expecting. They’ve been flirting for a while, but well, he’s Nightwing, when does he _not_ flirt? And it’s practically compulsory for her to flirt back. She’s embarrassed to admit that her brain kind of fills with static for the first few seconds after his lips touch hers.

“Thanks for ‘being nearby’,” he says. He has a tiny bit of her lipstick on his mouth when he pulls away. She briefly considers telling him. “I’m going to call the police in a minute to deal with this, so if you want to leave, now’s the time.”

“I have no idea why you think I wouldn’t welcome the chance to speak with the GCPD. I’m just a private citizen who happened to see a nefarious gang of criminals unlawfully detaining another private citizen,” she says sweetly, but she’s already pulling away from him so she can head for one of the exits.

“Thank you for your assistance, then, citizen,” he calls after her in his best pompous hero voice, and she has to bite the inside of her cheek to hold back the giggle until she’s at _least_ out of earshot.


	7. A Little Less Conversation [Explicit]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “No. We’re not having this conversation again. I don’t know what else I can say when you won’t believe me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's porn? Porn with some feels. Written for a prompt on Tumblr.
> 
> 'How about Tim (63! or regular) having self-worth issues again though they're with Dick. Maybe they saw him with Barbara and their doubts start flying. And usually Dick is really patient with this stuff, but this time... he snaps. He almost angrily devours Tim's mouth and throws them on the bed saying, "You're not leaving this bed until every inch of your skin knows how much I want you." Bam, Tim doesn't get much sleep that night. :D'
> 
> Content advisory: nothing big but Tim is pushed kind of far without them really discussing it beforehand so ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

It’s not that she’s _insecure_ , exactly. Tim’s pretty sure you can’t strut around in a catsuit if you don’t have a certain level of confidence in yourself. It’s just, when she sees things like the comfortable way Dick banters with Barbara Gordon, she can’t help but picture their story stretching out beyond this moment, into a future where Tim Drake is just a footnote. And this is – it’s not her first time seeing Starfire, but it _is_ her first time seeing Dick and Kori together. There’s a _spark_ to the two of them, one that never quite faded, and watching the two of them unearths an old feeling, excavates it against her will. Like she’s looking through the lens of a camera again, an observer of his life but not a participant.

Of course she doesn’t say anything about it, but Dick _knows_ her. All he has to do is glance at her face, the look in her eyes, and his jaw tightens. A few minutes later, he announces some excuse for them to leave and leads her away, grabs hold of her wrist and tugs her in the direction of the bedrooms. Once they’re alone inside his room, Tim opens her mouth to say – _something_ , she’s not sure what, but he presses a hand over her mouth and crowds her up against the wall. Not hard or cruel, just… firm.

“No. We’re not having this conversation again,” he says, low and dangerous – his Nightwing voice. “I don’t know what else I can say when you won’t _believe_ me.”

She wants to object, because – it’s not that she thinks he’s lying, it’s just… complicated. People change their minds. He can’t promise he’s always going to feel the same way because _no one_ can promise that. “Dick – “

“So I’m not going to just talk,” he says, and slides his knee between her legs, forces them open. “I’m going to _show_ you. We are not leaving this room until every _inch_ of your skin knows how much I want you.”

It’s so… dramatic and romantic and slightly intimidating, the kind of thing she can really only imagine _Dick_ managing to say without it sounding completely ridiculous. She opens her mouth, readying for a last-ditch attempt at sanity, but he uses the opening to kiss her so hard she’s pretty sure her lips are going to be bruised.

Her fingers clutch at the fabric on his shirt, and he’s smirking a little when he pulls back to look at her for a moment – waiting, she realizes, for a sign that this is _okay_. Tim licks her lips. They should… probably… talk this out. She may not be _great_ at relationships, but she’s aware, in a general sense, that open and honest communication is the best strategy, etc. But the thing is, they _have_ talked about it before, and, well… this is still where they are. Trying something new couldn’t hurt. Probably.

 

If nothing else, Dick is definitely determined to make good on the part of his promise about _every inch of her skin_. He certainly seems to be trying to get his mouth on as much of her body he possibly can. Which is a lot, considering that he took about all of a minute to strip her out of her clothes – particularly unfair considering that she hasn’t even managed to get his _shirt_ off him yet. Of course, she might have stopped _really_ trying somewhere around the point where he pushed her down onto the mattress and started eating her out. But it’s the principle.

At the moment, he’s dividing his time between licking her and sucking a bruise into her hip, and she’s pretty sure he’s just trying to crack her sanity at this point. Because he’s _teasing_ , keeps going until she thinks, _there’s no possible way –_ and then he backs off again, leaves her shaking and hot while he switches his attentions to some other part of her body. His tongue is barely a whisper of a touch against her, and so far he’s held her hips down easily whenever she tried to press closer. When he switches his attentions to her inner thigh just when she’s about to come, _again_ , Tim thinks she may be forced to take drastic measures, like stage a coup or just start screaming. They both seem like equally reasonable reactions right now. “Dick. Dick, _please_ – ”

He just hums in reply, lips buzzing against her skin. Maybe she should warn someone that Nightwing’s crossed over to the dark side. Maybe he’ll take her with her and they’ll rule Gotham together or something, or maybe he’ll slide his fingers into her just like _that a_ nd she’ll officially retract anything bad she ever thought about him, _fuck_ –

 

By the time they actually get around _to_ fucking, about all she has room for in her thoughts is just _finally,_ _**finally**. _ She’s straddling his lap, and she'd thought being on top would - theoretically, at least - give her some semblance of control, but he’s still directing, his hands firmly planted on her hips and guiding her thrusts.

He presses her down hard and holds her in place, makes her _feel_ the way his cock jerks inside her when her fingernails scratch down his back. She lets out a pathetic little whine as she tries to move a little, before she finally just gives up and drops her head against his shoulder. He wins. There is a new world order in which she never gets to have an orgasm again, and she will come to terms with that.

One of his hands comes up to cradle the back of her neck, squeezing gently, and she _could_ move now if she wanted, but she doesn’t. He kisses the top of her head. “Hey,” he says, softly. “Look at me.”

She does, and that tiny little upward thrust of his hips might be a reward for being good or it might just be a sign that his self-control isn’t _actually_ made of adamantium, but she appreciates it either way.

“In case you haven’t noticed, I want you.” He punctuates the statement with another little roll of his hips, and she bites back a whimper. “A lot. Because you’re pretty amazing and adorable and brilliant and also, really ridiculously hot even when you’re _not_ running around in a catsuit.” He presses his fingers against her cheek. “So even if you don’t believe it for yourself, I just want you to trust _me_ when I say that I do want to be with you, not anyone else, and I don’t regret that for a second.”

He pauses, and she’s not sure what he’s looking for when he searches her face. But she guesses he found it, because he kisses her before sliding his hands down her body and starting to actually _move_ again. He’s not holding her still anymore, and this time when her breath goes quick and sharp like she’s going to come, he doesn’t stop, just tangles a hand in her hair and kisses her.

Her focus goes a bit hazy there for a while, but when it sharpens again, he’s softening inside her and grinning at her smugly. “Hey there.”

“Hi.” She feels uncharacteristically stupid right now, brain scrabbling for what’s supposed to come next. “Um.”

He huffs out a breath that sounds suspiciously like a chuckle before he lifts her up and off. Then she’s standing, and he’s standing with her, which is nice because she’s not 100% sure her legs work right now. That’s… slightly embarrassing, but right now it’s more important to focus on getting comfortable before she passes out. Her attempt at lying back down on the bed is really just a semi-controlled, entirely graceless fall, but she tugs him down next to her, so it works out. Dick gives her that amused grin again when she latches onto his side, head tucked in against his chest. “Tired?”

“Why would I be tired,” she mumbles, the words coming out a little slurred and indistinct.

“Of course, what was I thinking?” He snags a blanket they’d kicked to the foot of the bed at some point and pulls it over the two of them. “This is just you meditating.”

Tim’s not sure her attempt at saying _you’re an asshole_ works until she hears him give a startled laugh. “All right, I get it,” he says, the laughter still ringing clear in his voice. “Don’t annoy a cat when she’s napping.”

He doesn’t even have to look at her lazy attempt at swatting him to block it. Stupid Bat. She’d say something uncomplimentary about that but she’s too tired for banter, so she just makes another grumbly noise and snuggles closer. She can deal with him later.


	8. Like Love or Lemonade

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Timothea Drake meeting Dick Grayson is a terrible idea.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for the tumblr prompt irresistable + Kitten!Tim/Dick. Title from "Music to Watch Boys To" by Lana Del Rey.

Timothea Drake meeting Dick Grayson is a _terrible_ idea. In an ideal world, they would be like ships in the night, passing during their various moonlit activities but never really meeting. But. He’s just so… _there_. And _cute_. How is she supposed to just pass on by? _Really_. 

Tim digs deep into her stores of willpower, and – walks directly over to him. At least she still has enough sense to make sure she’s _firmly_ in the guise of Timothea Drake, Unremarkable Civilian, before approaching him. “Um, hi?”

Dick turns around with an easy, if somewhat confused, smile. “Hello?”

 _Damn_. His _eyes_. She hasn’t seen them up close in years, and she’d forgotten what they looked like under the Nightwing lenses. “Sorry to bug you, but – my phone battery just died, and I needed to call a friend who was supposed to pick me up. Could I borrow yours for a minute…?”

“Sure.” 

She does dial an actual number, albeit one that she knows for a fact will not be picking up right now, because she’s not going to get tripped up that by something as basic as him noticing her phone call was a fake. In about two minutes, she has fake-arranged a pickup time and place while Dick leans back and keeps an eye on her. 

“Thanks so much, you’re a life-saver,” she says when she hands his phone back (maybe laying it on a bit thick). Whatever. 

He smiles again, fingers brushing against hers for a second (and of _course_ she’s stupidly aware of that because her inner self is apparently a lovestruck thirteen-year-old, not an adult in the slightest). “Any time.”


	9. Distractions [Explicit]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s not her fault, honestly. She’s paying attention to what she’s doing, it’s just that her eyes keep sliding towards his hands and those stupid gloves that really shouldn’t be as distracting as they are.

It’s not her fault, honestly. She’s paying attention to what she’s doing, it’s just that her eyes keep sliding towards his hands and those _stupid_ gloves that really shouldn’t be as _distracting_ as they are. It’s just blue cloth. There’s nothing inherently sexual about that, except for the part where it draws attention down to his fingers and forces her to imagine what _other_ things he could be doing with them.

“Kitten?”

“Mm?” She blinks. Oh god, she was staring again. This has to stop.

Nightwing crosses his arms and watches her with open amusement. “Something on your mind?”

She offers him a perfectly innocent smile, as if she couldn’t possibly imagine what he means. “Of course not.”

“You seem distracted.” He’s stalking closer now, something predatory in his smile. “Thinking about anything interesting?” She opens her mouth to answer, and he presses two fingers against her lip, stopping her. She might have stopped breathing. “Something to do with my hands, maybe? You seem a little fixated.”

The version of the suit she’s wearing right now is the one Selina insisted she’d want to have with the zipper down the front. Tim had argued that it wasn’t a very practical arrangement, but Selina had just winked at her and told her to use the design, anyway. It’s _so_ obvious now _why_ , as he takes hold of the zipper and slowly pulls it down.

Without taking his eyes off her face, he skims a hand down over her stomach and slides it between her legs. It’s easy for him to press a finger into her from there; the texture of the glove is rougher than what she’s used to, but she’s already wet enough that it’s not a problem. She lets out a quiet moan and then presses a hand over her mouth quickly.

He’s just smirking at her now, so obviously pleased with himself. “Still not distracted?”

“Oh, s _hut_ – “ He pumps his finger in and out of her a few times quickly, and she chokes on the words she was trying to say.

“What was that? Couldn’t hear you.”

He’s an _asshole_ , but he’s also sliding another finger into her alongside the first one, so she can’t _quite_ bring herself to tell him that.

“Do my gloves get you hot, Kitten?” The words are practically growled into her ear, and she shudders. She can _hear_ the wet noise his fingers make as they move in and out of her, and they are _on a goddamn rooftop,_ what is he _doing?_ “Feels like it. Is this what you’ve been wanting?” He tweaks a nipple through her open suit, and she hisses.

“Nightwing – “

“No one’s around. Relax.” He presses the rest of his hand against her pelvis and lets her grind against his palm, officially crossing the line from _holy shit_ to _actual sex dream_. He presses a thumb against her mouth, and she unthinkingly parts her lips to suck it in and is vaguely pleased when he responds by groaning and twisting his fingers up in her

She’s not going to last at this rate, which is kind of a shame because if she’s going to be fingered to an orgasm by a fully-clothed Nightwing on a roof, she’d like to savor it as much as possible.

“You’re close, aren’t you,” he says, and it’s not so much a question as a smug statement of fact. She hums shakily in response, which turns into a full-throated moan when he fits another finger in her. With that in addition to the fabric of the gloves, she has to take a moment to concentrate on _relaxing_ , but it’s _so_ worth it once she gets back into the rhythm of riding his fingers. He kisses her, nipping her bottom lip slightly, and fuck, that’s _it_. She’s _done_ , whimpering frantically into his mouth while she comes apart around his fingers.

He’s still smirking when he slides them out of her and thoughtfully tastes one, which is an image she is going to treasure for many nights to come, before sliding the zipper back up. Cleaning off this suit is going to be a bitch, but his gloves are probably going to smell like her for hours; it probably balances out.

“So,” he says. “What were we doing?”

**Author's Note:**

> If you are interested in my fics and want more, I have an account at syntactition.tumblr.com where I have bits of stories that are currently in the works and other ficlets and stories that haven't made their way to AO3.


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